


It's Just Polyester.

by psyleedee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Conan Gray Song, Best Friends, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues (Supernatural), Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester are Neighbors, Childhood Friends, Christmas Eve, Christmas Presents, Cliche, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Endgame Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Happy Ending, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jealous Castiel (Supernatural), Jealousy, Jock Dean Winchester, Lisa Braeden Not Being an Asshole, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Castiel/Benny Lafitte, Multi, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Pining, Pining Castiel (Supernatural), Reunions, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sad Castiel (Supernatural), Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Indulgent, Sharing Clothes, Song Lyrics, Song: Heather (Conan Gray), Teen Romance, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28126491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyleedee/pseuds/psyleedee
Summary: It was the third of December. Dean gave Castiel his jacket. Said it looked better on him. But then came Lisa.After the third of December, Castiel hadn't been able to look Dean in the eye again. No, he couldn't, he simply couldn't. Because if he did, he was scared of what he'd see. He'd see Dean falling for Lisa, see how he smiled at Lisa, see how his eyes lit up when he was talking to her, see how every day, Lisa became what Castiel used to be to him. And he couldn't take it.It was the twenty-third of December.Dean asked for his jacket back.He said Lisa wanted it. Said she had seen the other couples share letterman jackets. Said it was a special thing, and Dean had mumbled a 'you know how girls are'.Castiel gave it back that evening.'I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you, only if you knew how much I liked you. But I watch your eyes as she walks by. What a sight for sore eyes. Brighter than the blue sky, she's got you mesmerised while I die.'A Dean/Castiel fan-fiction inspired by the songHeather.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester
Comments: 46
Kudos: 322





	It's Just Polyester.

**Author's Note:**

> Now with art! Thank you so much @theoddsofus for this lovely [art!](https://imgur.com/l1oKRfV)  
> You're a sweetheart! Check them out on Tumblr and on ao3 @chasingorbits.

It was the third of December. Winter had begun to creep its way into Lawrence, and although Castiel should have known better than to walk out of his house without a jacket, wearing his usual half-sleeved button-up and jeans, it was too late to turn back now. So, he had carried on with his day, and now, stepping out of the coffee shop, where Dean and he often frequented, the chill of December finally crawled down his skin and a shiver ran down his spine. Standing a few feet away, leaning against the black, glossy Impala, was Dean, his face hung and eyes staring down intently at his phone, but the moment he sensed Castiel's presence, his eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face. And with a charming grin like that, Castiel found it hard to hold back his own smile, as he walked over towards Dean to hand him his coffee.

"This one's your black— _achoo_ —" Castiel sneezed suddenly, ducking his head to the side and burying his face over his shoulder, sniffling and rubbing at his nose on his shoulder, when all at once, there were hands on his back, and something draped over him.

"Man, I can't believe you were dumb enough to not wear a jacket. It's fucking winter, it's gonna' snow in a week, and you're out here in your—" Was that worry lacing Dean's words? It sounded like. Castiel glanced up at Dean, who had pulled off his own red, letterman jacket and had draped it over Castiel's shoulders.

"Oh, it's alright—"

"No, it's not. Just wear it, and don't take it off."

"But you'll be cold—"

"Some of us," Dean started, grabbing the coffee out of Castiel's hand, "—actually decided to wear long sleeves."

Castiel sighed, and rolled his eyes, slipping his hands into Dean's jacket, and wrapping his cold fingers around the warm coffee paper-cup.

The jacket was large, and it sat loosely on Castiel's shoulders, almost drowning him in it. It smelt purely like Dean, like his laundry detergent, like his cologne, like _him_. It was warm. Much warmer than Castiel had expected it to be. Warm enough that Castiel's _face_ had flushed with heat too, and he averted his eyes, not wanting Dean to see the soft smile that curled across his lips. Silence lingered between then for a few minutes, before Dean cleared his throat.

"It looks better on you than it does on me."

Castiel's eyes shot up to meet Dean's, and a beat passed between them, neither boy saying a word, simply searching for an answer within each other's eyes, and it was enough for Castiel, enough answer in itself, when he saw Dean's face tint red, and his eyes wandered away.

"We're going to be late, now, come on," he grumbled after a few minutes, and walked around the car to slip into the driver's seat. Castiel stepped inside, slipping in next to him, and although silence prevailed between them, the strangeness between them had dissipated as Dean turned up the radio. In the meanwhile, Castiel's eyes wandered outside the window, where the first few traces of winter were evident.

It had been one such winter where he'd first met Dean.

When Castiel had moved into a noisy suburb of Central Lawrence one winter morning, he had never expected a boy with dark, clustered freckles, apple-green eyes and three broken teeth to show up at his door and beam at him, introducing himself as Dean Winchester. Castiel, timid as always, had initially found Dean too intense for him, since the boy was always off getting himself into trouble, but soon enough, the two boys were inseparable. Where Dean was, Castiel had to be, and where Cas was, Dean was. Having been through elementary, middle and almost all of highschool together, since they were in senior year now, the two of them had been friends for longer than anyone else.

Everything was the way it always had been. Ordinary.

Until junior year.

Until junior year when Castiel realised he was gay, and utterly in love with Dean, perhaps he always had been, which had led to him having a breakdown in his room at two in the morning.

Castiel's little secret. He was utterly, irrevocably in love with his best friend. What a fucking clichè, no?

And Dean? Dean was oblivious as always. And why wouldn't he be? It wasn't as if Castiel ever made it a point to tell him. No, he would always just be there, in the background of Dean's life, as Dean continued to flirt with cute, petite girls, the complete opposite of Castiel, and show them his charming grins and googly-eyes. And Castiel would always take it with a smile, ignoring how it felt as if he were being stabbed, repeatedly, with a stake to his heart. There was nothing he could do, but watch as Dean trailed around other girls, never once batting an eye at Castiel.

There it was. Castiel's sob story. He'd learnt to ignore his feelings, push them down, not ponder upon them.

But it was moments like these where Castiel felt them the most.

_It looks better on you than it does on me._

For the first time in weeks, Castiel felt butterflies flutter inside his stomach with excitement.

* * *

"Hey," Dean called out, and Castiel turned to face him, shutting his locker behind with a slam, as Dean shoved his shoulder. Castiel hissed, narrowing his eyes at Dean, who grinned, goofy and playful as always, before stealing the books and binders out of Castiel's hands and holding them in his own.

"Dude, did you see Adler's face? Back in class? When you pointed out the correction in the equation, man, that was awes—" Dean's words broke off, and Castiel glanced back at Dean, who had been trailing him around like a lost puppy, but he wasn't walking. No, he wasn't talking either, he was frozen. His face was turned towards the side, and Castiel watched the movement of his eyes as they rolled to the side, and at last, Castiel's wandered over to where Dean had been staring.

It was a girl. Not just _some_ girl, Lisa Braeden.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, brushing his fingers against Dean's shoulder, and Dean seemed to snap out of a trance as his eyes narrowed in on Castiel.

"Who was that?"

"Who?"

"Her," Dean mumbled, "-the girl who just walked by."

"Oh," Castiel croaked out, feeling his throat dry and his chest constrict.

Dean on the other hand, looked absolutely mesmerised.

"Her name's Lisa Braeden. She transferred here last week."

"She's— she's— she's—"

Castiel knew already, the words on the tip of Dean's tongue. _Hot, smokin', pretty_ — the usual ensemble of compliments he reserved for a tiny, cute girl he saw sometime, but the words that left Dean's mouth a moment later took Castiel aback.

"She's beautiful," Dean whispered, and Castiel turned his head back to where Lisa had disappeared around the corner. Something felt strange in the air between them, and Castiel hitched his jacket, no, _Dean's_ jacket closer to his chest to cower inside it.

"She is, isn't she," Castiel sighed under his breath, and plucked his books and binders out of Dean's hands, while Dean still stood frozen, rooted to the ground, mouth hung agape and eyes bulging out of their sockets. He wasn't the only one enchanted by Lisa though, the other boys were too. And had Castiel been attracted to women, he would be too. She was simply put, gorgeous.

Straight brown hair that was tucked behind her ear, that flowed like a river over her shoulders; hazel brown eyes that seemed golden when the light caught them, and a laugh so bright, as bright as the sun, especially with her pink lips curling into a grin. She was an angel. A living, laughing angel. And perhaps she knew she was making heads turn. Perhaps she didn't. But that was part of her charm, how she didn't care about the boys who stared at her, or the girls who glared at her.

Dean was right. Lisa was beautiful.

Castiel wished he was Lisa.

"Dude," Dean said after a pause, "- I need to know her, like right now."

"Well, you could always go talk to her," Castiel suggested, fighting his instincts that urged him on to sound displeased, but he couldn't let his feelings surface, so he put on a smile. The one he always did when he realised Dean would never love him the way he loved Dean.

"That's stupid. Oh, oh, you could set us up. You're great at that, Cas, remember the time you set up Dorothy and Charlie?"

"Wha— Dean, I have never set anyone up. Besides, I only introduced Dorothy to Charlie, their relationship was their own doing, I had no part to play in that—" Castiel sighed, walking through the crowd, dodging people and squeezing through them, focusing on his breath as he pushed down the nausea in his gut. It felt strange, as if he was trying to swallow down a still-beating heart, trying to suppress the needles piercing through the walls of his gut, and he realised, for all it's worth, he was jealous. Jealous of an angel.

There it was, the difference between Lisa and him. She was an angel, and Castiel? Castiel had fallen— fallen so low, nothing he held onto would ever pull him up into brightness again.

"Please....? Pretty please? With cherries, or whatever it is you like on the top? Or hey, you set me up with Lisa, and I'll do your homework for a week, no questions asked," Dean pleaded, trailing behind Castiel, grabbing his shoulders and yanking him back until Castiel was crashing into Dean's chest, his books spilling to the ground.

"Dean—" Castiel shouted, his eyes going wide as he bit back a round of tears, and dropped down into a crouch to gather his notes, "-I said no. I won't help you."

_Don't make me spend another minute with her._

"What?" Dean mumbled, dejected, mostly hurt, as he crouched down to help Castiel, his face crest-fallen, a frown curling at his lips.

"Do what you want," Castiel growled, and snatched his notes out of Dean's hands, turning on his heel and walking away.

_Don't remind me how she makes you smile wider than I ever will._

It was a few minutes after he was sure he had lost Dean in the crowd that Castiel let a tear roll down his face.

"Are you alright?" A voice called from behind him, and he turned around, only to find the very face he'd been envying seconds ago. Bright, glorious, the epitome of beauty. Lisa.

"Yes, uhm, Lisa, right?"

"Yeah, erm, you must be Castiel? I've heard so much about you from Ms. Mosely." She chuckled, and even her breath smelt of strawberries.

"Oh?"

"Mhm, I saw you cry a second ago, so erm, I thought I'd check in on you. Are you really alright?"

"Oh," Castiel chuckled, "-I wasn't crying. It's just, allergies."

"Oh," She smiled, and her shoulders relaxed, "-I've got some pills with me if you want, but I'm not sure if you'd want them."

Castiel stared at her.

He was right. Lisa was an angel.

"I'm alright, thank you."

* * *

A week had passed by already.

After the third of December, Castiel hadn't been able to look Dean in the eye again. No, he couldn't, he simply couldn't. Because if he did, he was scared of what he'd see. He'd see Dean falling for Lisa, see how he smiled at Lisa, see how his eyes lit up when he was talking to her, see how everyday, Lisa became what Castiel used to be to him. And he couldn't take it. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday— Castiel had walked to school himself. He'd leave early, before Dean would drop by his house with the Impala, and he'd left it to Gabriel to tell Dean that Castiel had left already. At school, he'd try his best to avoid Dean's eyes, to steer clear of the tables at the cafeteria Dean sat at, to avoid crossing his path when they met in the hallways.

But even then, he'd ended up stumbling into Dean in their shared classes. Dean had smiled at him, and Castiel had met his eyes for a moment, before settling at the seat farthest from Dean. Of course, Castiel had felt Dean's eyes linger on his skin, before shifting, and the moment they turned away, Castiel was letting out a breath he never knew he'd held. Once the bell rung, he had shuffled out of the class faster than he could even say the word _bye_ , and then he had headed home alone, pulling the jacket Dean had given him over his shoulders. He'd hidden it in his bag, and he wouldn't dare wear it in school, but only where he knew Dean would never find him.

The _worst_ however, had been on Friday.

It was the final class for the day, and although Castiel wasn't always particularly early, since Dean had always found ways to dilly-dally before, he decided today he'd grab a seat at the class sooner, maybe catch up with some reading for a few minutes before the rush poured in. And so, he'd made his way to room 4A, the last classroom on the ground floor, which was at the very end of the hallways, and he'd dug out a book, a Dan Brown novel, and he'd headed over to the end of the hallways, when at once, the sound of laughter floating out from classroom 4A caught his attention, and he stood rooted to the ground, before another laugh echoed through the room.

And that laugh. It was Dean. _Unmistakably_ , Dean.

With his heart pounding, his breath short, and his chest tight, Castiel neared the classroom, pressing his back to the wall, and finally, glanced inside.

And there he was. Dean. With Lisa, at that.

They were pressed close on one of the corner desks, his arms around her, her hand in his hand, blushing, smiling, giggling, talking. Their eyes never left each other's, and perhaps that's when Castiel had realised things he would rather not have realised at a moment like this.

Castiel had left Dean. He had drifted away from Dean, but Dean had never made an effort to draw him back in. He'd never reached out.

Not a text, not a call, nothing.

And it was then that Castiel realised, he was _utterly, absolutely, completely_ useless to Dean. And why wouldn't he be?

Dean had found an angel for himself. An angel who made him laugh, an angel whose smile brightened the universe, whose voice was as lovely as a harp, and whose heart was large and full of joy, nothing like Castiel's— whose heart was weak, shriveled with envy, anger, and unspoken words.

As much as he hated it, he felt a smile curl at his lips.

Dean was happy. And he loved Dean. If Dean was happy, Castiel would gladly accept his happiness.

Even if it meant losing Dean. Even if it meant Dean would never love him. Even if it meant impaling a knife through his heart. Even if it meant crying himself to sleep every night. Even if it meant losing his appetite.

_If Dean was happy, Castiel would gladly accept his happiness._

* * *

"Cas," Dean called out one morning when Castiel was at his locker, grabbing Castiel by the arm, urging him to turn back. Castiel glanced at Dean, before turning back to his locker and rummaging through it.

"Hello Dean," he mumbled, quick enough Dean would miss it were he not paying attention.

It was the eighteenth of December. The winter had grown sharper, colder and whiter. Castiel had begun wearing long-sleeves to school. They had a few minutes before class.

The last fifteen days had been a flurry. Dean had forgotten Castiel existed, and Castiel was trying to do the same. But he couldn't. It felt strange, hearing his name on Dean's lips after what had felt like an eternity, but warm nonetheless, warmer than any jacket would ever make him feel.

"You, erm, you've been weird these past few days."

_So he did notice._

"Sorry, I had a fight with my brother, wasn't in the mood for a few days," Castiel lied, wondering if he was a bad person if lying came to him easier than confessing did.

"Hey, you could have told me, man, I was worried sick."

"Oh, you were, were you?"

Dean was silent for a few seconds, as if testing the tone of Castiel's words, but Castiel couldn't take the silence between them anymore, as he turned around and met Dean's eyes for the first time in fifteen days, "-What do you want Dean?"

Castiel noted how Dean shifted his weight from one leg to another, how he avoided Castiel's eyes, "-Just, erm," Dean swallowed, "-I wanted to tell you that, erm, I'm dating Lisa now."

Anger, hurt, sorrow, disappointment— Castiel expected one of these emotions to rise through him. But they didn't. Instead, he felt numb. You know that feeling when you hold a cube of ice in your hand for as long as you can, and for a few seconds it stings, but eventually, your hand is paralysed, you can't move it, you can't lift a single finger, you can't feel another thing— that's how it felt. But instead of holding a single cube, Castiel felt himself being buried in a pit of ice.

"Congratulations," he said after a pause, "-She's a lovely girl."

A smile spread across Dean's face. A smile Castiel have never before envied so much.

"Yeah, she's amazing."

Silence fell upon them once again, and Castiel wondered if Dean wanted to say something more, perhaps sing more praises and hymns in the name of Lisa, or perhaps he wanted to leave this conversation, leave Castiel and the awkwardness between them. Perhaps he did. Perhaps he always had wanted to get Castiel off his back. Perhaps he was enjoying his time without Castiel.

Castiel smiled. What else could he possibly do?

"Was that all?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Dean mumbled.

A beat passed between them. Strange. Hesitant. Expectant.

"Alright. I have a class to attend," Castiel sighed, and stepped away, wondering if Dean was glad he didn't have to speak to Castiel anymore.

"Oh," Dean hummed, as if he wasn't expecting it. As if he really did care about what Castiel had to say.

"Bye."

Castiel turned away, not sparing Dean a glance, because by avoiding Dean's eyes, he was sparing himself.

"... Hey, wait—"

"Hm?"

"Cas, you—" Dean grabbed at Castiel's arm, pulling it back, until Castiel was stumbling into Dean's arms, their chests pressed close, faces inches away, and breaths mingling. The crowd around them carried on with it's chatter, not bothering to care about how close Dean was to Castiel, or how Castiel could smell the scent of coffee in Dean's breath.

"Lisa must be looking for you," Castiel croaked out, plucking Dean's arms off his body and turning away, "-You should get back to her."

As he walked away, further and further, he couldn't find it in himself to turn around. He didn't want to look at Dean.

Because he knew if he did, he wouldn't be able to resist Dean again.

* * *

It was the twenty-third of December.

Dean asked for his jacket back.

He said Lisa wanted it. Said she had seen the other couples share letterman jackets. Said it was a special thing, and Dean had mumbled a _'you know how girls are'._

Castiel gave it back that evening.

He made sure to dry the tear stains on it, iron the creases from the hugs, and wash it until his scent had dissipated.

Whatever. It was just polyester.

But now it was Lisa's.

Now she would wear it around the school each day, when she would pull Dean down to kiss him before class, when she would run to hug him during lunch, when she would sit on her bench and pass notes with Dean that made her giggle, when she would sit in Dean's lap on the bleachers where they made out— she would own it. She would own Dean.

Castiel wanted to hate her. But how could he?

Lisa was an angel.

Castiel wished he was Lisa.

He knew he would _never_ be Lisa.

* * *

Christmas was supposed to be the way it always had been for the past ten years.

Castiel was supposed to be at the Winchester's place, helping Mary with the pies in the kitchen while John and Dean set up the table, and Sam, Dean's brother, followed after Castiel like a puppy, eyes wide and tail wagging when Castiel taught him about a new scientific discovery. Michael and Gabriel were supposed to bring over meat and wine, and gifts for the Winchester family, and they were supposed to eat lunch together, laughing and chatting. Castiel and Dean were supposed to head up into Dean's room, and fall back on the bed, their bellies bulging with food, with Castiel always falling asleep on Dean's arm and Dean waking him up when it was evening.

It's how he had spent the past ten Christmases.

This one, however, this one was strange.

This time, Castiel had refused Mary's invitation, much to her dismay, and when she'd asked him what it was that was bothering him, with her voice tender and nurturing, and her hand so soft on Castiel's shoulders, he hadn't been able to refrain the tears that poured down his face. Something in his heart told him Mary knew already. That with the way she pulled him into a hug, and kissed his forehead, and whispered, ' _everything's going to be alright_ ', she knew. Castiel had sniffled, simply smiled, and then turned away, ignoring the heart-broken, crest-fallen expression on Mary's face.

And on the morning of the 24th, when Castiel glanced out his window and over to the Winchester's house, he saw pulling into the driveway, a big, black car, Dean's Impala—no, his Baby, and out stepped Lisa, dressed in her finest Christmas dress, and Dean had kissed her before grabbing her hand and guiding her inside.

They must be enjoying themselves.

Gabriel had to leave for work. His diner in the downtown was facing an issue with legalities, and Michael had a conference meeting in New York that evening. Both of his brothers would return late, somewhere in the night, and Castiel had the house all to himself. Had it been any other occasion, the house was certain to be filled of the sounds of two young, seventeen-year-old boys playing video games, laughing, fighting, and snoring until evening, but today the house was silent. Pin-drop silent.

Castiel decided to sleep. To fall into a dream where he could have Dean, to lose himself to slumber.

Two hours later, when he was awake and brewing himself a mug of coffee, the doorbell rang.

Perhaps Castiel should have checked his visitor through the peep-hole, but he was in no shape, mental or physical, to do that. His hair was a raving mess, his shirt was wrinkled from having slept on it weirdly, his pyjama bottoms were old and faded, and he wore a long, navy-blue robe over his shoulders that dragged behind him wherever he went. His face was groggy, nose red with having cried, and his eyes weary. If there was a Christmas spirit, it sure did miss Castiel.

"What?" he grumbled, only to come face-to-face with _them_ —Dean, and pressed to his side, Lisa. They were sparkling, Dean looking charming as always in a rich, green button-up, the sleeves of which tightened around his biceps, and Lisa in a short, black dress with a pair of fuzzy, red, thigh-high socks.

"Cas?" Dean asked, pushing the door open, but Castiel held it ajar, his heart pounding, his breath constricted, his chest tight and heavy— it was nauseating, the scent of fruit and sugar emanating from the couple, and he wanted to turn away and hurl his guts out, but in answer, he simply raised an eyebrow. Dean's eyes narrowed as he studied Castiel, and Castiel felt his skin on fire under Dean's attention, but he quickly cleared his throat and caught Dean's attention.

"What is it, Dean?"

"Why aren't you coming over if you're at home?" Dean asked, quite earnestly, and Castiel averted his eyes.

"Michael and Gabe aren't here, they'll be coming home late. I need to watch the house."

"Watch the house? What, is it gonna' grow feet and run away?" Dean snorted.

"I can't leave the house empty." Castiel pulled the door open, allowing Dean and Lisa to step in and shelter themselves from the cold.

"Dude, you just need to brush your hair and get some coffee. You're good to go. Besides, we're having so much fun at my place, it feels weird you not being there."

"I don't find it weird," Castiel smiled, trying his best to not let his voice crack, "—besides, you have Lisa now, so eat her head, not mine."

Lisa smiled at that, but she remained silent, simply spectating.

"Yeah, but—"

"I can't come. Just enjoy your Christmas, Dean."

Dean hung his face, eyebrows knit and lips curled in a frown as he studied Castiel, but a moment later, Lisa squeezed Dean's hand, and whispered something into his ear, to which Castiel promptly looked away, and Dean lit up. He reached around for something, before handing it over to Castiel. It was a gift. A small, wrapped box with a bow on the top.

"Right, shit, sorry, I came to give you this. Your erm, your Christmas gift. I actually planned for something bigger, but uhm, most of my budget was drained on _somebody's_ —" Dean side-eyed Lisa, who in turn, stomped on his foot, "-Christmas gift. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Castiel smiled, "-a gift is a gift. I'm sure it's lovely."

"Open it," Dean grinned, and Castiel found it hard to not give in, so he untied the box with gentle fingers, and popped the lid open. Sitting inside, on a small purple cushion, was a delicate, golden, engraved honey-bee heart-shaped locket.

"Oh," Castiel croaked out.

"Do you like it?"

"Of course, it's a, it's a bee— it's gorgeous—"

A laugh slipped past Castiel's lips unbidden, and before he knew it, there were broad, tender arms sliding around his chest, pulling him into a hug, and for the first time in days, Castiel let himself have it.

Let himself have Dean. Even if it was for a second, even if Castiel could not respond, even if tears blurred his vision, he let himself have Dean.

For a single second, the warmth of Dean's arms was all Castiel would ever need, for the rest of his life.

But the next second, it was gone, and reality came crashing through the roof, weighing him down like an avalanche, and he found it hard to steady his balance as he staggered back, the smile on his face vanishing. Dean seemed alarmed by Castiel's sudden reluctance, but he didn't voice it, and Castiel turned away, clearing his throat to push away the tension in the air.

"I erm, I got your gift too. I was going to give it to mom, but she told me to give it to you myself."

It was true. Castiel had asked Mary to give Dean his gift, but she had insisted on Castiel to give it himself. But he would never be able to tell her the reason he didn't want to face Dean. 

"Let me, uh, let me get it." And with that excuse, Castiel ran up into his room, ignoring Lisa and Dean's murmured whispers. Maybe they were worried about Castiel. Maybe they found it strange. Once in his room, Castiel let his head fall against the door, and he sighed, rubbing the sleeve of his robe over his face and concentrating on steadying his breath as he wiped away his tears. A few seconds later, he dug Dean's gift out from under his bed, and a smile graced his lips at the memory of buying it.

Castiel ran down to where Dean and Lisa were waiting for him, and handed the gift over to Dean, holding his hands behind his back and shifting his weight from one leg to another, hoping Dean would like his gift, "-Open it."

"Right now? It's big." Dean quirked his lip, but flipped the gift over to find a corner he could rip open.

"Right now," Castiel mumbled, watching as Dean tore the wrapping paper open and crumbled it in his hand, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

The limited edition Led Zeppelin Physical Graffiti album vinyl.

Dean had wanted it for months, but Mary had deemed it too expensive.

It was 600 dollars after Castiel had bargained with the record store owner.

Castiel expected Dean to smile, maybe hug him again, but no, Dean was silent. Strangely silent, and Castiel found the silence deafening as he gauged Dean's reaction, which for a few seconds, remained cold and emotionless.

"How much," Dean croaked out, his voice hoarse, "-how much did it cost?"

_Alright, this was not how it was supposed to go._

"Why? Don't you like it?"

"Cas. Be honest with me. How much did it cost?" Dean asked, anger seeping into his voice, and Castiel stepped back, slightly afraid of Dean's reaction.

"Six-hundred," Castiel replied timidly, nibbling on his bottom lip.

"How'd you afford it?" Dean asked sharply, and Castiel winced. Lisa squeezed Dean's shoulder, whispering and urging him to _calm down._

Upon Castiel's silence, Dean asked again, furious now, his eyes wide and his face red with anger, "-how did you fucking buy it, Cas?"

"I— I saved up money, and I worked overtime," Castiel stuttered, his head hung down in shame and guilt, as his lips curled into a pout and he blinked away a few stray tears.

Dean didn't like his gift. No, he hated it. Dean was angry at Cas. _Because_ of Cas. Dean was furious and it was all Castiel's fault.

"This is what you were working overtime for?"

Castiel was silent. He couldn't find it in himself to lie.

"Christ, Cas," Dean sighed, rubbing a thumb over the vinyl, "-you didn't have to do this. You said you hated working overtime. Said you didn't get enough sleep, said it was fucking you up, and you did it all for _this_?"

Castiel's lips trembled, and his eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to restrain his tears. He cowered, hiding within his own shoulders, reminding himself not to cry in front of Dean, because he knew if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop, and look, he'd made a mess already, when all he wanted was to make Dean happy. But as always, he'd ended up disappointing Dean, making him angry, ruining his cheery mood.

Castiel should never have opened the door. Not today. Not ten years ago.

Perhaps he would have spared himself some misery.

"I thought you'd like it," he admitted softly, his voice on the verge of breaking, hoarse from disuse, and he watched as Lisa soothed a hand over Dean's back.

The perfect angel.

Castiel shoved his tongue into his cheek, biting on his lip to hold back another round of tears as he averted his gaze, keeping it fixed to the floor, while silence crept between them, strange, off-putting, distant.

Castiel just wanted to make Dean happy.

But he would never make him happy.

He would _never_ be Lisa.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered into the silence, as Dean turned away, not sparing him another glance. Lisa, bless her soul, hugged Castiel, commenting strangely on how nice his shampoo smelt, but Castiel couldn't be less bothered. Dean had walked away. And he hadn't turned back.

Castiel squeezed the bee locket in his hands, before shutting his eyes, and holding it against his chest. Perhaps this would be the last thing he'd ever receive from Dean. After all, he had Lisa now. Lisa, who deserved to be showered with love and affection.

Not for the first time in days, Castiel wished he was Lisa.

* * *

It was the thirty-first of December.

Benny had invited Castiel to a New Year's Eve party, and Castiel had acquiesced to come. Anything to distract him. Twenty-fourth December was the last Castiel had seen of Dean. After he had walked out the door, enraged and seething, Castiel had decided it was best if he distanced himself from Dean. He even made sure to ask Benny, although discreetly, if Dean was coming to the party, and Benny had shook his head, saying Dean had business to attend to. The relief pouring through Castiel's veins at not having to see Dean should not have felt as sweet as it did, but Castiel knew his place now, and he was alright with where he was. His place was in the background of Dean's life, as it always had been. His place was away from Dean. Being away from Dean meant making Dean happy, and for Dean to be happy, Castiel would do anything.

Which is why, sat here on a crowded love-seat, in Benny's farmhouse, which was dark, only lit with glimmering neon lights, music blaring loud enough for it to shake the ground, and the room reeking of alcohol, vomit, and sweat, Castiel sipped at his paper cup, which had been filled with some beer, some water, a strange combination, and it tasted disgusting, but somehow, as long as Castiel had something to sip on every now and then, he didn't mind. Benny had his arm wrapped around Castiel's shoulder, and clearly, he was looking for fun. Castiel hadn't known Benny swung that way, but in a very earnest and drunken way, he had confessed to Castiel about wanting to fool around with another boy, and Castiel, having had a little too much of the diluted beer, had smiled and accepted. Anything to distract himself from Dean. 

"Castiel's a nice name, kind of cult-ish, but cute. Suits a guy like you."

"Thank you Benny, I think Benjamin is a sweet name as well."

Benny laughed, and his breath reeked of alcohol, but Castiel didn't pull away, instead letting himself press into Benny's warmth as he hummed.

"Do you want to kiss?" Benny asked after a few seconds, which yes, Castiel had seen coming, but it still caught him aback.

Somewhere in his heart, Castiel had wished Dean would be his first kiss.

Of course, it would never come true, and for as long as Castiel would live, his wish would remain a wish, so he figured it wouldn't hurt if he happened to have his first kiss with Benny. But then Benny was turning away, his eyes wandering somewhere into the dark, and Castiel followed his gaze, only to find a very familiar, red letterman jacket illuminated by the blue neon lights.

There it was again, the pounding of his heart, the pounding in his head, the paralysing numbness in his feet, the quickening of his breath, the tightness in his throat— for the first time in days.

Castiel wanted to claw at his own flesh, tear his skin, gouge his eyes out, rip out his hair— anything to not be where he was, anything to disappear. Had the ground opened up under him and swallowed him, he would be more glad. Maybe he could shut his eyes, and realise Dean was simply a figment of his alcohol-riddled brain's imagination, but apparently, every single thought consuming Castiel vanished the moment Dean's eyes caught his from across the floor.

"Hey Winchester," Benny called out, drawing Castiel out of his trance, and he tore his eyes away from Dean, instead letting them wander down to the ground. He untangled himself from Benny's arms, scooting away and putting a good few inches between him and Benny, "-c'mere brotha, it's been days."

The beer on his tongue now tasted bitter, or perhaps it was his own anger leaving a repulsive taste in his mouth, either way, Castiel wanted to leave, wanted to disappear, wanted to pretend seeing Dean was an illusion, that they were nothing now, that ten years of friendship meant nothing, that it took only one girl, no, _angel_ to break Castiel. Benny was slurring about catching up with Dean, but Castiel couldn't be less bothered. He pushed himself off the love-seat, and turned to walk away, when a hand— broad and familiar, grabbed his wrist, and Castiel paused.

"Cas."

No one else called him _Cas_ but Dean. It was Dean's name for him. Kept with love and affection. Oh, how it pierced Castiel's ears now.

"Let me go," Castiel sighed. He didn't turn back, rather, he couldn't. He couldn't face Dean. Perhaps Dean knew that, which is why he walked around, hand still gripping Castiel's wrist, to face Castiel himself. Even then, Castiel kept his head hung, not wanting to meet Dean's eyes, as Dean stood before him, waiting, uncertain, hesitant. A hundred unspoken words buzzed through Castiel's mind, and perhaps if he had drunk a little more of the bitter, diluted beer, he would have been able to say them out loud.

"Not now. Not after I almost did."

Castiel's chest heaved with deep breaths. Dean's hand dropped from his wrist down to his palm, his fingers brushing against Castiel's in the slightest, and the touch had sparks flittering over Castiel's skin. Dean's words echoed through his hazy mind.

"Lisa must be looking for you, you should get back to her."

"Lisa's gone," Dean said, his voice unwavering, and the affirmation in his words had Castiel turning up to face him at last, but the moment he did, Castiel found himself sucking in a breath, preparing himself to meet Dean's eye, nibbling on the insides of his cheek to steady his loud, beating heart which seemed to have travel up to his head from his chest. The distance between them was close to nothing, and a few mere inches stood between them. Castiel could distinguish the scent of Dean's cologne, even out of the hundreds of smells in the room, Dean's cologne always found it's way to Castiel's senses. Their breaths mingled in the air between them, and Dean squeezed Castiel's hand.

"I said she's gone."

"Where—"

"I don't know. Somewhere better."

Absently, Castiel's eyes fell upon the hem of Dean's jacket. Just the sight of it warmed Castiel, and reminded him of how soft it had been, how it had engulfed him with tenderness and love, how Castiel had slept with it for nights, how he had held it close to his chest whenever he could, how he wept a hundred silent tears over the fabric of the jacket, how he craved to be the one Dean wanted, the one who would bring Dean happiness, but Dean had found himself an angel. And her name was Lisa. Castiel wished he was Lisa.

"Why aren't you with her?"

"I'm right where I need to be."

Their eyes met, and perhaps it was another one of Castiel's illusions, but he swore Dean was leaning in, bridging the distance between their faces, and as much as Castiel wanted to move, the moment he stepped back, Dean's arms were sliding around his waist, pulling him in, and then, there was a brush of soft, dry lips against his own. It was the faintest touch, but Castiel gave into it, body and mind, as he pressed himself against Dean, hoping, wishing, praying— this was a dream, that this was all in Castiel's head, another one of his fantasies, but something about the way Dean rubbed his jaw before brushing his lips against Castiel's brought Castiel staggering back to the present, and he realised at once—

It was real. Everything he'd said, everything he'd done— it was real. Dean was real. Their words were real. Their kiss was real.

 _This was real_.

And just as easily as Castiel had given into Dean's touch, he pulled away, stepping back as if the very touch of Dean's skin on his own charred his flesh, and he stumbled backwards, crashing into people, mumbling futile apologies, as Dean chased after him, calling out his name, a litany of _Cas_ over and over again in varied tones of concern, but Castiel was far from responding to them as he felt his ears ring, felt his heart pound, _thump, thump, thump_ , as fast as a drumbeat in his chest and his head, and his throat had dried up. Every time he tried to speak, all that would come out was a whimper. He had to leave. He couldn't stay here another minute, no, he had to leave.

He ran, pushing people aside, shoving them out of his way, dashing out the door, where the noise of the music was muted, and the air was fresh, and didn't reek of alcohol and puke, and this was what Castiel needed— space. He needed space to breathe. He filled his lungs with the fresh, cool air until once again, the chill of the winter begun to crawl down Castiel's skin, and he wrapped his arms around his chest, blowing out a soft puff of air as he walked down the narrow pathway into God-knows-where.

But he couldn't get far enough, before the leaf on the path behind him was crunching, and the air was filled with the sound of someone panting. It took Castiel less than a second to realise who it was.

"Cas—" Dean panted, and Castiel turned around, watching as Dean held onto his knees, gasping for air, holding a hand up to assure Castiel he was alright. On pure instinct, Castiel moved to Dean's side, pressing a hand over his back to soothe him. Dean groaned, before pushing himself up, and he towered over Castiel by a few inches, which prompted Castiel to take a step back.

"Don't— don't go, Cas, please—"

But Castiel was staggering backwards, picking up his feet and stumbling back, away from Dean, as far as possible. Tears obscured his vision, and his chest heaved in deep breaths as he ran, only pausing to gasp for air, reaching a hand out to support himself against a tree as he panted. In his mind, he could see, clear as day, how Dean had leaned in, how he had brushed his lips over Castiel's, how he had pulled Castiel in by the waist.

"Castiel," Dean called out, and Castiel froze. He knew he wouldn't be able to run any farther, as he fell back against the large trunk of the tree, and met Dean's eyes from across the dimly lit grove.

"Just please," he called out, hoping Dean could hear him, "-go away Dean. Leave me alone. You're not thinking—" Before he could finish however, Dean was walking over, no, he was marching over to where Castiel was standing, and in a split second, he grabbed Castiel by the front of his t-shirt, and pinned him against the tree, their faces close enough for Castiel to lean in and taste Dean's lips again, but the cold, rigidity of Dean's gaze had Castiel rooted to the ground.

"Stop running away from me."

Dean's fist loosened, and Castiel's toes touched the ground when Dean let him go, as he turned away, his eyes staring passively into the distance.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For—" _for what?_ Castiel wondered, "-for running away. I thought you'd be happier."

"That's not what you should be sorry for." Dean's voice had dropped to a whisper, and yet in the silence, it was louder than Castiel expected it to be.

"What do you want me to apologize for?" Castiel asked at last.

"I want you to apologize for not saying anything. For not telling me how much it hurt you when I was with Lisa. For smiling even when everything I said only broke you. For thinking of me before you thought of yourself," Dean growled, his lips trembling as he punched his knuckles into the wood beside Castiel's head, "-for, for, for being a fucking coward, and not telling me that this whole fucking time, you've been— you've been—"

"I've been what, Dean?"

Dean went silent, and their words hung heavy in the air, waiting to be continued, but all Castiel could do was watch as tears poured down Dean's face— Dean, who was brave and strong, who always looked out for Castiel, who always stood up for him, whose courage never wavered— Dean was crying, and it was all Castiel's fault.

"I'm sorry," Castiel whispered, for lack of better words.

"You should be, you fucking asshole."

It was strange, how their movements synchronized as Dean surged forward, pulling Castiel in, and Castiel came pliantly, throwing his arms around Dean's neck as their lips met and Dean swung him off the ground, pressing him into the tree as their bodies fused together, lips slick and exploring the corners of each other's mouth with enthusiasm and a hundred unspoken, unsaid words. It wasn't gentle like their first kiss, it wasn't testing and hesitant— it was firm and passionate, and seeping into it were a thousand emotions: the tears Castiel wept each night, the smiles he feigned, the laughs that never quite reached his eye, the hurt he carried in his heart, the relief at having Dean in his arms— everything bled into their kiss, and somewhere between their kiss Castiel tasted salty tears, either his or Dean's, it didn't matter anymore. They pulled away a few, long moments after, only to regain their breaths, and Dean chuckled strangely, the way people did when they felt thrill wrack their body, and Castiel supposed he couldn't blame Dean for it.

"Shoulda' done this ages ago."

"Not my fault you're an idiot," Castiel teased, pressing his head against Dean's cheek as they found their voices again.

"Not my fault you're a scaredy-cat," Dean retorted, as expected, and somehow, the tension between them felt easy— as if things had never changed between them.

"What was I supposed to say?" Castiel asked, his eyes welling with tears, "-I mean, I kept thinking, after all the girls, and the dates you went on with them, _why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty._ "

"Maybe. Maybe you're not as pretty, maybe you've got a weird, Rudolph-like red nose right now," Dean mused, pinching Castiel's nose, and Castiel swatted at his hand, "-and weird, messy hair," Dean continued, poking at Castiel's hair, earning himself a glare, "-and you're taller, bigger, stronger than any of them, but it never mattered."

Castiel watched, silent as Dean continued, "-it took me more time than I'd like to admit to face you here, Cas. You're brave, braver than me, and you're kind, kinder than anyone I've ever known, and that's your problem. You've got too much heart in you. And I don't think I'll ever be able to love you the way you've loved me, but I really, really want to," Dean whispered, his sobs turning into small hiccups, and Castiel gave a wet chuckle against his face.

"I thought you hated me," Castiel confided in a whisper.

"Hate you? Hating you is the last thing I'd ever do, Cas."

"But then," Castiel started, pulling away from Dean to gaze up at him. Dean wiped a hand over his face, before staring down at Castiel, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "-on Christmas. After I gave you your gift. You stormed out of my house. Why'd you do that?"

"Tell me why you didn't come over for Christmas then?" Dean shot back, his eyebrows furrowing together as he locked his jaw, and tightened his arms around Castiel's waist. There was no point in lying. 

"I couldn't take it anymore. You and Lisa. I hated her, but I hated myself for hating her because she's an angel. She's everything I'm not. And every time you were with her, your smile was brighter than I've ever seen it before. I thought it'd be better if I wasn't around."

Dean was silent for a solid minute before he spoke.

"I hated your gift. Because every time I looked at it, I kept thinking of how you spent your summer working overtime, how you'd fall asleep in my car, how you barely ate, how you couldn't focus on school, and all for a fucking vinyl. All because you wanted to buy it for me. And I was supposed to," Dean sniffled, "-I was supposed to buy you that astronomy book you wanted for months, but I couldn't, because I wasted my money buying a gift for someone who didn't even matter to me, and I kept thinking of how I," Tears streamed down Dean's face, and Castiel found himself in awe of Dean having let his guard down, "-how I pushed you away, and how I _almost_ replaced you, how I almost lost you."

Castiel couldn't answer.

A beat passed between them.

"What did you tell Lisa?"

"Told her I was sorry. Told her she could never be you."

"What did she say?"

A wet chuckle slipped past Dean's lips, "-she said it was about damn time."

"She really is an angel, isn't she," Castiel mused, somewhat dejected.

"Yeah, I guess. Are you going to ask me to go back to her?"

"Maybe you'd be happier."

"You say that again," Dean warned, squeezing his arms around Castiel and lifting him off the ground as Castiel yelped, "-I'm gonna' break your teeth."

"I'm sorry, Dean, put me down—"

"Promise me you're never gonna' say that again."

Their eyes met, and somewhere within Dean's, Castiel saw fear, uncertainty and hesitance, and he realised at once, he wasn't the only one scared. He wasn't the only one lost. He had Dean.

Maybe he would always have Dean.

"I promise," he whispered after a beat, and Dean smiled, setting him down and stealing a kiss from his lips. Castiel smiled, not pulling away, rather staying in Dean's arms for a little while longer.

A large firecracker burst above their heads, illuminating the dark, night sky with a burst of orange light.

"Happy new year, Cas."

"Happy new year."

* * *

It was the first of January.

Dean dropped Castiel home at four in the morning, after they'd spent hours meandering about the grove, their hands entwined and their bodies pressed flush together. Standing at the porch of Castiel's house, both boys still riding the high of the events from a few hours ago, the sharp winter chill finally crawled down his skin and a shiver ran down Castiel's spine as he gave a little sneeze, _achoo_ , and turned his head away. He rubbed at his red face— but then there were broad, tender arms draping something over his shoulders, and he blinked up strangely, only to find Dean's letterman jacket now draped across his shoulders.

"Dean—"

"Don't take it off, it's cold out here."

"But you'll free—"

"Some of us," Dean said, pressing a kiss to Castiel's forehead, "—actually decided to wear long sleeves."

Castiel laughed, pulling Dean into one final hug, before walking back towards the front door, when Dean's voice had him pausing in his tracks and turning back.

"Besides," Dean said, "-it always did look better on you than it did on me."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! I'm not a huge Conan Gray fan, heck, this is one of the very few songs I've heard of his, but when I heard it, I knew this would be the perfect Dean/Cas story. I'm sure this AU has been done before, but I wanted to write my own twist on it. My friend had already pitched me the idea months ago, but I was busy with other fics back then. Anyway, thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are deeply appreciated!💕✨


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